The Phantom's Opera
by AmberLS123
Summary: A short fic based on a dream I had.


It had been my dream for years to visit places such as London, Venice, Rome… and at last, I had finally talked my family into going to Europe for vacation. Our trip began in Paris. While there, me, Mama, and Nana wanted to go to the Opera Populaire to see a live performance of Andrew Lloyd Webber's "The Phantom of the Opera." The guys in our family weren't too thrilled about it, so we went by ourselves.

We wore our best outfits to the theater. I felt very fancy and sophisticated in my pale rose sleeveless dress with a long and flowing skirt. I wore my short brown curly hair down with a small flowered barrette on one side to pull the bangs out of my face.

When we arrived at the opera house, an usher escorted us to our seats in the balcony. I looked about the large room in wonder. It was even better than I had imagined it would be, from the huge stage and full orchestra, the dark red velvet drapes and golden statues and columns adorning the walls, to the massive crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling.

As the lights were dimmed and the orchestra began to play the famous overture, I felt my excitement grow even more intense, and my eyes were glued to the stage from that moment on. I smiled fondly as characters I knew so well appeared one by one, each singing and performing their parts flawlessly. Mama and Nana shook their heads and chuckled in amusement as I silently quoted each line from memory.

However, there was one character alone that I longed to see. As the time drew near for his appearance, I felt my heart beat faster in anticipation. Though a small part of me was afraid that I would be disappointed. This was a performance, after all, and I wondered if the actor chosen to portray him would look and sound anything like I imagined he would.

However, I heard him before I saw him. The first time he spoke, he was practically whispering. But moments later, I jumped as his voice boomed throughout the theater.

_Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory._

_Ignorant fool! This brave, young suitor, sharing in my triumph!_

My eyes widened in amazement. There were simply no words to describe the power, the emotion, the beauty of his voice. I watched eagerly as Christine responded:

_Angel, I hear you. Speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me._

_Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me…Enter at last, Master._

I listened again, completely oblivious to everything around me except that melodious voice that began to sing again.

_Flattering child, you shall know me…See why in shadow I hide…_

I leaned forward eagerly in my seat. A voice as rich and beautiful as that simply could not exist… I felt exactly like the words Christine was singing; I had to see him; I had to know who the voice belonged to…

_Look at your face in the mirror…I am there inside!_

At that moment, all eyes in the theater focused on the mirror onstage, where he appeared like a ghost. My heart leapt in my throat as I set eyes on him for the first time.

Erik…

Though most people only knew him as "The Phantom," I always referred to him as Erik because I had read the book by Gaston Leroux before I had watched the movie. Not paying any attention to what Christine was saying, I focused on him, watching his every move. He held out his hand, inviting Christine to join him on the other side of the mirror.

_I am your angel of music… come to me angel of music…_

I felt entranced by that haunting voice as he sang, and for some strange reason, I felt drawn to him, as if it was _me_ he was calling. And for one brief moment, as he looked out into the audience, our eyes met. I froze, glued to the spot as he gazed at me. A moment later Christine placed her hand in his, and he turned back to her as she began singing.

_In sleep he sang to me… in dreams he came…_

_That voice which calls to me…and speaks my name…_

_And do I dream again? For now I find_

_The phantom of the opera is there inside my mind…_

I watched mesmerized as the show continued. Each time the Phantom was onstage, my heart seemed to skip a beat. What's wrong with me? I thought. It's just a play…

Finally, it was time for what was perhaps the most famous and passionate scene. With my eyes still glued to the stage, I watched in fascination as Erik and Christine sang "The Point of No Return." As Christine reached up to Erik's face, I screamed in my head "No! Don't do it!" But she ripped off Erik's mask, and the entire theater gasped in horror at the sight of his disfigured face. Yet instead of fleeing the stage like I knew he was supposed to, Erik just stood there, hanging his head sadly. My heart ached for him. How much pain and ridicule he must have suffered through his whole life… but wait, this is just a play, right? He's just an actor. But as I watched the scene unfolding before me, I began to think otherwise. What if this wasn't just a performance…what if it was real? What if _he_ was real? The more I thought about it, the more sure I became. No one on earth could sing like that. He _had_ to be real. That look of sorrow and pain on his face was real enough. I stood up from my seat, clenching my fists angrily as people began to mock and ridicule him, some threatening to kill the "monster." I looked to Erik sadly, who stood trembling either with rage or sadness or a combination of the two. But finally, he had had enough.

"A monster," he said, his voice low and dangerous. He gestured out into the audience as he strode toward the edge of the stage. "Isn't that what you wanted? You came here tonight to see a grand performance, filled with the most beautiful of music. But what did you really come to see? That's right. _Me_. You were curious. Everyone wants to know, who is the phantom, whose is the face behind the mask?"

With a growl of anger, he leapt from the stage and out into the audience, causing some to scream in terror, before climbing up a rope up into the balcony.

"Am I not what you expected?" he asked, standing on the railing of the balcony just a few feet away from me. "Perhaps you imagined someone taller, darker… handsomer." He laughed harshly, causing his marred face to become even more distorted. "Well I can assure you… no such Phantom exists. There is only me. Erik, the Phantom of the Opera."

He jumped down from the railing, striding forward towards us. Everyone trembled in terror before him, some sobbing pitifully, some shrinking down further into their seats, some covering their eyes. As he scanned the audience, once again his eyes met mine. I was the only one who was not trembling in fear or turning away from him. Instead, I looked on him with pity. He saw this, and a look of confusion passed over his face. He came towards me, and grabbed me by the shoulders angrily, causing the rest of the audience to flee in fear, leaving me alone with him.

"Is this what you wanted to see?" he yelled in my face. I gasped and turned my head away as those eyes burned into mine. "Yes, now you turn from me," he said. "Now that I have revealed myself to you, you want nothing to do with Erik." He released me, and turned to walk away. But I grabbed his hand and held him back.

"No, Erik," I said. "Please don't go."

He turned to me in surprise. "You…you're not afraid?"

I shook my head in response.

He looked to me sadly, as if afraid to believe it. "If I sang to you now, would you feel the same ecstasy you felt when my face was hidden? Will my ugliness cause you to hate my music as well?"

"Of course not," I whispered. He gasped as I reached up and cupped one side of his face gently. He closed his eyes for a brief moment as he placed his hand over mine. When he opened them, I smiled in encouragement. He smiled in return, and began to sing "Music in the Night." I felt my heart soaring with the music as he took my hands in his. I closed my eyes as his black gloved hand caressed my cheek softly. Swaying back and forth slowly, we danced to the music as he sang. I laid my head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me. Nothing could ruin this moment.

Nothing that is, except for several police officers bursting in with the owners of the theater. Of course, they misunderstood what was happening, thinking that he was holding me hostage. "Let the girl go!" they yelled, drawing their weapons.

"No, leave him alone!" I yelled, clinging tighter to Erik. "He's not hurting me!"

But no one would listen to me. "I'm warning you, Ghost…" one of them threatened.

Erik laughed in amusement at that term. As I turned to him, he smiled sadly, brushing a stray curl behind my ear. "Thank you," he whispered. "For…for appreciating my music." He caressed my face one last time, then pulled away before I could stop him. Suddenly a trap door opened in the wall, and he slipped through before the police could react. They rushed forward, but it was too late. The phantom was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:Last Sunday, on March 4, I had this dream while I was taking an afternoon nap. It was so cool because I absolutely love the Phantom of the Opera. As with all my dreams I share here and on DA, I had to add a little bit of dialogue for it to make sense, because I couldn't remember what was said word for word. But I tried to recall as much of it as I could. ^_^<strong>

**The Phantom of the Opera (c) Gaston Leroux**  
><strong>Lyrics (c) Andrew Lloyd Webber<strong>


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